


Reflect Me

by TheTwistedWillow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Amnesia or is it, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Djinn or is it, Djinni & Genies, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dubious Consent, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Hunter Dean Winchester, John Winchester Being an Asshole, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Lucid Dreaming, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mystery, Plot Twists, Suicide Attempt, Things aren’t what they seem, Witch Castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 13:24:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13928004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTwistedWillow/pseuds/TheTwistedWillow
Summary: Dean and his brother are monster hunters alongside their sidekick angel (that Dean has some seriously unreciprocated feelings for). But most of that changes when one day Dean wakes up to find that all of his wishes have seemingly come true. He is still hunting with his bro but his parents are alive and Cas--well, Cas and him have never been closer. It should be all good except that everything that Dean believes is real he's told is false. Cas isn't even an angel and everything that they've gone through has apparently never happened. Dean has to learn to navigate this seemingly new and very different life while trying to figure out what is his true reality and what is only a dream.UPDATE Oct 2018: I had to take a break due to pregnancy loss. It messed me up for awhile but I'm back in the swing of writing. I plan to finish this story for NaNoWriMo (November 2018) so please stay tuned and thank you for your patience.WARNING: DUBIOUS CONSENT.Canon divergent as of S10 finale; MOC was abolished but Amara was never unleashed.





	Reflect Me

**Author's Note:**

> Don't let the pronouns at the beginning dissuade you from continuing. This IS Dean and Cas.  
>   
> The title is inspired by the song “Mirrors” by Justin Timberlake. Lyrics are shown in single quotation marks with italics. I do not own this song; all credit belongs Mr. JT.

Dean is in a blurred state between asleep and awake. One moment he’s running down a dark alley when a dark figure collides with him and the next moment he’s falling backward into a bed, a different shadowed figure following after him as they pull off their necktie.

He falls deeper into unconsciousness and scenes begin to flit through his mind. Some of them memories, others nightmares. There's Sam and him in the Impala racing toward danger or running from it. Yellow eyes blinking from the shadows. Growling hounds. Chains holding him down. Sulfur. Handprint. Wings. Black goo. Mourning. So much mourning. Purgatory.  
  
Interspersed throughout is lightness in the form of smoky blue that helps to break up the dark like a companion flame. And then light music begins to bleed through, layering over the visions in his mind's eye, a soundtrack for whatever he’s about to fight, fuck or flee in any given dream scene.

 _‘And I can't help but stare 'cause I see truth somewhere in your eyes. I can't ever change without you, you reflect me, I love that about you...’_ _  
_

The darkness of his dreams fade away and sunlight begins to seep red-orange through the veil of his closed eyes. He hears murmuring and feels a tender touch against his thigh. And then the bed rocks gently as the faceless someone who is lying next to him shifts around.  
  
They slide beneath the covers and nudge at his legs, silently prompting Dean to open them. He's still caught in the cobwebby stick of dreams but he sleepily obliges and drops his knees open to make room to accommodate the person so they can kneel between his thighs.

There's the warm heat of breath before he feels the slow drag of tongue up his semi-soft, stiffening cock. That is what ultimately and fully drags him out of his dream fog. He hums deeply at the sensation, curling his fingers into the bed sheets and adjusting his legs, bare feet sliding across cotton.

The music (that was playing as he raced through Purgatory-dreams in a maddening search and rescue) is still playing now that he’s waking up. He realizes that it‘s coming from a phone.  
  
_'I don’t wanna lose you now, I’m lookin’ right at the other half of me,_ warbles out from the weak speaker, the song an odd choice for a one night stand with... with… 

It seems his brain isn’t awake enough, though, to even remember who he brought back to, well, wherever he’s at. What he does know is that it’s been so long since he’s been touched. Too damn long, if he’s honest, since he’s had a warm body to wake up to.

And this is a very nice warm body. With a very nice mouth.

And an especially nice tongue that is teasing the slit of his cock, lapping up a bead of precum. And then those lips press against the tip of his dick. His bed-mate slowly pushes him through their taut lips, sucking him into the tight, heated channel of their mouth.

Dean is fully hard now, and the faceless person that is sucking him down is taking her sweet time, torturing him by taking him in deeper and then very lightly dragging her teeth along the sensitive skin as they slowly pull off. They repeat this teasing slow dance, taking him in deeper and deeper each time, until Dean is as deep as he is allowed to go and the rounded head bumps her throat.

She pulls off and wraps a hand around the base of his cock before sucking him in again, a pinky teasing the patch of hair at his groin. She seems to be doing that on purpose and he kinda likes the strange tickle that sends a tingling sensation to his balls.   
  
She begins pumping in time to the push-and-pull of his cock against her curled tongue. Dean arches his back a little, lazily pushing his hips up on the next down stroke, trying to gently move in time with her. 

 _'...it was easy, coming back into you once I figured it out. You were right here all along.'_ _  
_

Her other hand--the one that isn’t wrapped firmly around his dick--snakes up his thigh. Blunt fingertips find his hip and knead the flesh, driving him a little wild. She increases speed: sucking him in tight and then releasing the pressure, tongue flexing around his dick in all the right ways and suggesting that she isn't a BJ virgin.

The hand at his hip moves to his stomach, long fingers spreading out across his flesh and pressing into him, trailing back down to his inner thigh to coax him to open up further.

 _‘And now it’s clear as this promise that we’re making two reflections into one.’_ _  
_

He slides his legs up, knees spread far apart, giving in to the prompting as her hand continues its descent before coming down and stopping to cup his balls. She gently rolls them in her slightly calloused palm. Eyes still shut tight, Dean’s mouth drops open in a silent gasp when a thumb stretches down to press and rub against his perineum.  
  
The exploring thumb finally presses exactly where he wants it and his rim flutters involuntarily at the pressure. He wants her to keep going, Dean silently urging her to go on. He loosens his grip on the sheets in favor of diving his fingers into her short, soft hair. 

 _‘You are, you are the love of my life. You are, you are the love of my life.’_ _  
_

“Ung, fuck,” Dean mutters, unable to stop his hips from moving and shallowly thrusting between pursed lips. He's on edge and so so close...   
  
The stranger must feel the tension in his nuts or just has bad timing because she slowly pulls off at just the wrong moment, sending electric zings through his nerves that don’t, unfortunately, end with him coming. 

 _‘You are, you are the love of my life. You are, you are the love of my life.’_ _  
_

The mystery person also moves her hands away to his disappointment, sliding them up and around his legs to grip his outer thighs instead. They start pressing kisses against Dean’s skin, ignoring Dean’s throbbing and spit-moist cock.   
  
Dean's eyes fly open and he's instantly on alert. 

He can feel it now. Her cheeks against his delicate skin feels like fine grit sandpaper.

It’s… facial hair? Stubbly, scratchy,  _very-much-male_ facial hair? 

The mound of blanket continues to move up Dean's body, lips and tongue dragging along Dean's hip and up his stomach, but it’s only now that Dean notices that this person is much larger than the people that he has typically shared a bed with.  
  
And hey, that’s okay. Nothing wrong with curvy women. That ain’t the problem. The problem is that this— _this—_ isn’t a womanlike he thought.   
  
The short hair, the blunt nails, rough palms, and the deep rumble of noises that Dean can make out—now that he’s listening for it below the music—all point to  _male._  
  
The man stops his ascent up Dean’s body and bends back down to return his mouth to Dean’s dick. Dean grapples for the edge of the blanket and holds it tightly so they both stay covered. While Dean tries to sift through his hazy memories he hears the snick of a bottle being uncapped and seconds later lube-slicked fingers slip beneath Dean’s balls and between his cheeks.   
  
Dean’s mind blanks out when not one but two fingers press against his hole and the gender of the person in bed with him becomes the very least of his worries. He pushes against the fingers greedily and they pop in to the first knuckle. The abruptness causes his body to clench tight, his orgasm pulled back again but by the the sharp sting and burn of the sudden stretch.   
  
It doesn’t take but several seconds to relax into the full feeling and the man separates his fingers a little in a scissoring motion in order to further stretch Dean’s rim, all while continuing to slowly blow Dean.   
  
“Oh fuck, fuck,” Dean murmurs, moving his hands beneath the blankets. His own fingers find sweat-dampening hair and thread through it. Dean doesn't care about being gentle now. He rubs his fingertips roughly along the guy’s scalp, his hands moving in time with their bobbing head. The more breathless Dean becomes and the more he moans, the more the man responds by quickening his rhythm and pushing his fingers deeper into Dean’s ass.

Underneath the blanket it's becoming stifling from their trapped body heat but all of their motion keeps pulling it down now that Dean isn’t holding onto it. It moves incrementally until a dark head of hair appears and the person lying between his thighs—blowing him and finger-fucking his ass—is revealed.   
  
Dean lifts his head to get a better look down the length of his body where he's spread wide and vulnerable and his lust-filled thoughts screech to a halt.

But--No. What the hell? This can’t be happening.

“Oh, god,” Dean moans when he sees who it is, dropping his head back. “Oh shit. Shit. C-Cas?” The name falls off of his tongue more huskily and lustfully than the exclamation of surprise he intended.

His fingers curl into Cas' hair tighter and Dean tugs weakly in a poor attempt to pull the angel off but Cas’ mouth is like an iron vice around his dick.  
  
A _sweet, hot, velvety_ iron vice that surprisingly seems to know what it is doing considering Cas' lack of experience--or at least Cas’ enthusiasm makes up for any minor nuances.  
  
Dean knows he should be making a more valiant effort to throw Cas off of him and ask what the fuck is going on but he isn't even sure this is actually happening. And he's so close to an orgasm--that he's missed twice now--that he tries to reason that  _something_  must've happened between them the night before to have led them to this point so why stop? Haven’t they passed the point of no return?  
  
It’s probably a lame excuse but Dean doesn’t _want_ to stop.  
  
The fact that it is _Cas_ doing him changes nothing because this is what Dean has wanted for forever but has been too afraid to initiate. And yet it changes _everything_ because this isn't just some random fling with only the means of release to think about anymore. This is _Cas._ This is the being that Dean has harbored some serious feelings for for years and because of that Dean’s heart rate doubles and his fingers begin to tremble in Cas' hair, his adrenaline dialed up way past eleven.  
  
Cas grunts at Dean and holds his face still all of a sudden, Dean’s cock heavy on Cas’ tongue. Using his free hand to grip Dean's hip, Cas silently urges Dean to take control of the blow job. Dean's got two choices: continue or stop. When Cas looks up at him from under his lashes and raises his brows like he's challenging Dean to not chicken out, Dean decides he's not stopping. Cas is clearly cognizant of what he's doing--what _they're_ doing.  
  
Dean is helplessly caught in the web of Cas' hungry gaze. If he wants it... and Cas wants it... Dean doesn't see why he's gotta stop.  
  
He keeps his hands buried in Cas' hair to help keep his head still, thumbs gently pressing into Cas' temples. Dean tentatively and slowly pushes further past swollen pink lips, sliding along Cas' tongue, and back out. Noticing that Cas can handle it and even seems pleased that Dean is cooperating, Dean does it again and again, building up to a rhythm that swiftly brings him back to the precipice of coming.   
  
With Cas' attention no longer split between sucking and penetrating him, the angel’s entire focus is tuned to timing the penetrating motion of his fingers with the shallow thrusts that Dean keeps up with. The sweet dragging burn of  _Cas inside of him,_ even if it's only his fingers for now, coil hot and tight in Dean's balls.

Dean is gasoline and Cas is the fire; and Cas is about to light him up and make Dean blow.    
  
Cas hums very loudly around Dean's cock on the next thrust, the vibrations rocketing through Dean like the purr of a car motor, igniting him on fire. He tenses up right before he comes, coming so hard that his body shudders and quakes in time to the pulse of his ejaculation and his vision nearly blacks out.   
  
He's still conscious enough to hear Cas groaning and humming like he’s feasting on a gourmet meal, all filthy and gluttonous, as he swallows the load.  
  
No. Nope. No minor nuances.  
  
Cas removes his fingers and gives a final suck of the crown of Dean’s cock before he pulls completely off with a lip-smacking pop, making Dean grunt lowly from over-sensitivity.   
  
For being taut and tense only seconds before Dean is useless, breathless putty now. He blinks his eyes open, not even realizing he had slammed them shut, and gets a good look at Cas sitting up between his legs. Cas’ dark hair is damp and sticking up every which-way, his blue eyes bright, face pink, and his chest gently heaving as they watch one another. 

Now that Little Dean has had a good time, Big Dean is coming back online with some very real concerns. Dean finds the strength to pull his legs up and together, moving to one side of the bed so that Cas has room to casually flop back onto the empty space next to him with a breathy sigh. Dean slowly inches the sheet back up his body clear to his hips while staring at Cas' profile in something like horrified wonder. Dark hair curls against Cas’ temples, a trickle of sweat sliding down the side of his face as he rolls his head to look over at Dean.   
  
“Cas,” Dean rasps and then clears his throat. “What the hell was that?”

“Morning, Dean,” Cas says, smiling smugly, most likely taking Dean’s words as a compliment instead of an actual, real question. And, hey, definitely compliments to the chef and all but that wasn’t what Dean is asking.  
  
“Um, hi?” Dean stutters, his breath coming in short, quick bursts now as he tries to wrap his brain around what just happened and mentally kicking himself for losing self-control and allowing it to go this far.  
  
It isn’t the fact that he’s in bed with a man that has Dean practically hyperventilating, because, sure, that was initially shocking but not the end of the world. It’s the fact that his _best_ _friend_ , who happens to be a friggin’ angel, just gave him an epic blowjob like a fucking pro. Like it wasn’t the first time. And Dean is pretty sure that he’d remember if they’d done this before.

Most distracting right now, though, is that there’s a small streak of  _Dean’s cum_ on Cas’ upper lip. Dean stares at it and Cas must realize something is amiss because his tongue slips out to the exact spot Dean is staring at,  _the same tongue that was just basically caressing Dean’s dick_ , and swipes it across swollen pink flesh while Cas watches Dean closely with a gleam in his eyes.

Oh god, is Dean supposed to reciprocate? He's pretty sure he is because that's just good manners. He tears his eyes away from azure ones (and when the hell did he get so poetic?), and down toward the heavy, thick cock curving up toward Cas’ navel. 

Cas turns onto his side while Dean gapes at the ridged shaft, the change in position drawing Dean’s eyes up to Cas’ wicked smile. It’s the kinda feral smile that says ‘ _fuck me_ ’ or ‘ _I’m gonna devour you_ ’ and holy hell if that doesn’t make Dean’s semi-hard, softening dick twitch in interest, even though he just unloaded. 

A sudden pounding on the door startles Dean so badly he jumps and effectively breaks the trance that was slowly pulling Cas closer to him. He snaps his head toward the noise, heart hammering heavily, while Cas throws himself onto his back with a groan of annoyance.

It’s the first time that Dean notices that they’re in a motel room. The pounding is coming from the same kind of heavy door that they all have, complete with a door hanger and a peephole, the windows next to it covered in sun-bleach faded curtains that allows enough sunlight in to create a yellow cast over the entire motel room.

“Dean, you guys up yet?” Sam’s muffled voice calls. Oh fuck,  _Sam is here._  “We’ve got witnesses to interview so, like, hurry up and put some pants on. Meet me at the diner across the street.”

“What?” Dean whispers quietly, in shock. He reaches down and quickly pulls the blanket further up to his chin like it can somehow protect him from whatever dream he’s in.

“Yes, Sam, we’re coming,” Cas calls loudly, revealing that he and Dean are together. Dean makes an unmanly, indignant squeak which Cas ignores.  
  
In his peripheral he sees Cas sit up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. The music that Dean had completely tuned out at some point stops and a phone clatters to the nightstand from where it must have been during their… extracurricular activity. 

His head snaps away from the door, to Cas’ naked backside, and he completely short circuits. Again.

 _They’re naked._  
_He saw Cas’ dick._  
_Cas sucked his dick._  
_Sam knows they’re together..._

“What?” Dean whispers, again. 

Cas twists around to look at Dean over his shoulder, eyes narrowing. “You keep saying that.” Cas looks every bit like the perpetually perplexed angel that Dean knows, especially when he cocks his head a little and his rough voice grounds out, “Why?”

**Author's Note:**

> Perhaps the hardest decision I've had to make this month is choosing to temporarily remove 20K words of this story in order to revise it before I finish writing the entire story and begin re-posting it for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). I've already revised chapter one and have kept it up so that subscribers won't lose their subscription. 
> 
> I began this story as a one-shot smut scene for writing practice because writing smut is hard, y'all (pun intended). And then it just snow-balled into plot and I began writing willy-nilly as the story developed. But I've actually needed to flesh out the plot better and so revision is absolutely and utterly necessary if I want this to be as impactful as I envision in my head. 
> 
> Thank you for your patience and faithfulness to check in with me, especially when I stopped publishing abruptly earlier this year due to personal reasons. XOXOXO
> 
> ~TheTwistedWillow~


End file.
